


False Dawn

by shell_and_bone



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bickering, Established Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Post-Canon, aggressive cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shell_and_bone/pseuds/shell_and_bone
Summary: After a slightly happier end to The Fall of Centauri Prime, Emperor Mollari II and his loyal bodyguard suffer through a hard winter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Amatara for beta-ing this fic! :D

After the first snowfall of the year covered the capital, G’Kar had dragged Londo by the sleeve out into the nearest courtyard. He’d marveled at the gardens blanketed under a coat of sparkling white; at the sculptures, softened figures with snow filling the hollows of their upturned faces; at the flowers, out of sync with the seasons, their heads bowed under a dusting of frost. It had almost seemed a crime to disturb the muted scene, but the ground gave a satisfying crunch underfoot. 

At first, he'd tried to catch the falling flakes in his hands, only to be left with slightly dampened gloves. “No, no, you’re doing it all wrong. Try this,” Londo had said, and then tilted his chin up and opened his mouth. G’Kar had done the same, delighted by the snowflakes melting over his tongue. 

“I would not recommend it,” Londo had warned, trying to stop G’Kar from raising a handful to his mouth. He’d taken a step back, then offered a shrug. “There may still be residual contamination, or so they say.”

G’Kar had shrugged back, and taken a bite out of the snowball anyway. 

His enchantment had been short lived. As winter tightened its grip, and the sun became an ever fainter glow against a sky swallowed in thick, black cloud, G’Kar was beginning to fear he’d never feel warm again. Apparently, the capital had been spared the worst of it. As the largest population center on the planet, much of the reconstruction and environmental preservation efforts were focusing on the region’s revitalization. The coasts and countryside were faring far worse, G’Kar had been told, but that did nothing to chase away the unnatural chill that seeped deep into his bones and kept him awake at night with shudders and muscle spasms. 

His uncle G’Sten had always joked that G’Kar could sleep through an air raid. G'Kar remembered huddling in the corner of an underground bomb shelter, pressed against the stone walls, refusing to let the explosions, alarms, or the cries of frightened children come between him and a few hours of slumber. He wondered what G’Sten would think of him now, awake at an obscene hour of night, bundled beneath a mountain of quilts at the center of a circle of candles. His gaze wandered over the shadowed shapes of his chair and writing desk, the decadent wallpaper, the line of light shining under the door from the emperor’s bedchamber. He rolled his eyes in commiseration.

Alone in his private sanctuary—formerly the emperor’s study—G'Kar tugged the blankets closer around his shoulders and began to recite his evening prayers. 

He felt a stir in the air as he finished, and when he opened his eyes, the room was marginally brighter. 

“Still alive, I see?” Londo leaned against the door frame, already dressed for bed. 

G’Kar reached for something cutting and clever to say in response, but the cold seemed to numb his mind—his thoughts drifted, weak and sluggish, even while his body tensed like a coiled spring. “Barely,” he conceded. 

Fortunately, Londo seemed in no mood for petty bickering. When G’Kar turned to look at him, he saw an exhaustion as deep as his own. Though perfectly comfortable in only his nightgown and a light housecoat, there were dark circles around his eyes, his hair ragged and disorderly. Londo gave a small noise of acknowledgment and beckoned G’Kar to follow him back into the bedroom. G’Kar wet his thumb and forefinger to douse his candles. Their aroma clung to the blankets dragging at his ankles as he made his way to Londo’s side. 

To his disappointment, he didn’t find Londo already under the covers, but behind his desk again, frowning over what looked to be the last of a thick pile of documents. Other stacks lay scattered over the surface in various states of organization. Wedged in among the chaos was a half-empty bottle of brivari, an unfinished glass, and a dainty porcelain plate containing the forgotten remains of a pastry—likely the only meal he’d taken all day. 

“Go on. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll join you when I have finished,” said Londo, offering G’Kar a pat on the arm as his eyes skimmed along the page. 

“Mollari, you know as well as I that if you spend another moment chained to your reports, you will remain here until that charming little footman of yours arrives at the break of dawn with five more bundles,” G’Kar pointed out, and then snatched the page from his hand, briefly glimpsing its contents. Another requisition order to the Minbari government, it seemed, on the matter of additional soil purification technology. 

Londo grabbed it back from him, irritated now. “Don’t touch that! See what you’ve done? Now I have lost my place,” he grumbled, squinting at the document. “I’m almost finished. Truly, this time.”

“Fine. I’ll wait.” With that, G’Kar leaned back against the desk, eyeing the plate. He scooped up a smear of cream and some leftover crumbs with the tip of one finger, then idly licked it off. 

Londo shook his head. “As you wish,” he said, and turned his attention back to his paperwork. 

For once in his life, it appeared that Londo had not been exaggerating—only a few more sheets remained of the pile he was currently occupied with. G’Kar watched in uncomfortable silence as his eyes glazed over every report, request, and proposal that had made its way to his desk from across the planet—from the other side of the Republic in some cases. Read, signed, and stamped with the emperor’s seal, so there could be no doubt in the minds of the populace that Emperor Mollari II was doing everything in his power to see their world restored. He worked with tireless efficiency. Whether reviewing another offer of aid from the Alliance, or an updated death toll, he regarded each report like a fresh hand in a game of cards, his face carefully blank. 

Londo kept glancing at G’Kar every so often, though neither of them had spoken a word. Mild distraction turned to annoyance, until he was glowering at G’Kar over a tower of papers. “Will you stop doing that?!” he finally snapped. “You are disturbing my concentration.”

“Doing what?”

“Grinding your teeth,” Londo muttered. “I can hear it.”

G’Kar hadn’t noticed, but once Londo called attention to it, he realized his jaw was clenched and aching. “I can’t help it. I’m freezing!” he protested, unable to hold back a pained groan. “It feels even colder than it was last night, and—“

Londo cut him off. “It is cold tonight. It was also cold last night, and the night before that. And it will be cold again tomorrow. One would hope that by now, you would begin to grow accustomed to it, yes?”

“Tell that to your ministers,” G’Kar said with a scoff. “How is it that your so-called ‘royal palace’ does not come equipped with a modern heating system?” 

“As I’ve told you a hundred times before, it is not that simple. I would remind you that this is a very old building!” Londo had, indeed, given him the same speech every time he’d asked. G’Kar had yet to understand in what way it was supposed to be an answer. “You are standing in one the most ancient structures in all of the Centauri Republic,” Londo went on. “Do you have any idea when this palace was constructed? I’ll tell you—“

“Eight-hundred years ago, by Emperor Kiro. I know,” said G’Kar, regretting that he’d brought it up. 

For a long time, G'Kar had thought of the Centauri as an indulgent people, irreverent and nihilistic, for whom base desire reigned supreme. But over the course of his career on Babylon 5, and his time here with Londo, he’d come to see that what ruled the Centauri was not hope of future fulfillment, but an aimless sense of loss, a misplaced nostalgia—a people who would endure, and even glorify, hardship if it meant holding onto a thread of their past. He could only wonder now if that thread would be strong enough to carry them through the years ahead. 

“Besides…” Evidently, Londo wasn’t finished with his little tirade. “You are not a prisoner here, G’Kar.” He shuffled the stack of papers against the desk. “Not anymore, anyway. If you find the conditions so intolerable, you could always go to Immolan V or Jux Prime, or any of our other core worlds and join the rest of the evacuees, or even back to—“

“No,” was all G’Kar said. It was all he needed to say, because Londo wilted under his gaze, his hand frozen around the ornate stamp he used to mark outgoing documents with royal approval. It seemed, for a moment, like he was about to bring it down hard on page before him, but his temper faded quickly. After a pause, he lowered it gently beside his signature at the bottom of the page, leaving behind an eight-pointed star: the emblem of House Mollari.

G’Kar set a hesitant hand on Londo’s shoulder. “My place is at your side.”

A harsh laugh was all he got in response, but the smile on Londo’s face wasn’t entirely without fondness. Londo leaned back in his chair to take stock of his progress. “I’m tired,” he said. There was a note of surprise in his voice, as if that had only just occurred to him. He picked up the last sheet of paper from the batch he’d been working on and laid it at the top of another, much taller pile. “Very well. We will go to bed.”

G’Kar’s arms were around Londo’s waist as soon as they slid under the sheets. Relief washed over him as heat built up between their bodies, soothing his aches and releasing the tension from his limbs. With the lights dimmed, bed enclosed by gauzy curtains, it was easy to forget the howl of the wind outside and the desolate landscape that lay beyond the city walls. 

He nuzzled his jaw against Londo’s shoulder as he felt himself begin to drift off. Half-conscious and eager for more warmth, his hands made their way inside Londo’s housecoat first, then hitched up his nightgown in search of bare skin. 

Londo yelped. “Great Maker, your hands are freezing, G’Kar!”

“Mmn…” G’Kar whined. Still at the edge of sleep, G’Kar tightened his grip. “But you’re so warm.”

“I am not your personal furnace,” Londo grumbled, attempting to wriggle out from G’Kar’s clutches.

“Why not?” G’Kar opened his good eye to peer blearily over Londo’s shoulder. “It’s not fair,” he said, trailing off into a yawn. “Your physiology produces more heat than you can use, while I can barely hang on to enough to continue carrying out my duties. Hardly a balanced distribution. Won’t you let me…” He unclasped his hands from around Londo’s waist and sank them into his sides, instead, rubbing vigorously to produce friction.

“W-what are you doing?” Londo sputtered. “Stop that at once!”

“You said my hands were cold. I’m trying to warm them up, if you’d stop squirming—“ To his dismay, Londo only squirmed harder the faster he rubbed, resulting in an awkward flailing of limbs in the darkness until Londo’s elbow painfully collided with G’Kar ribs. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Londo retorted when G’Kar’s grip loosened, sensing his offense. “It serves you right.” He took a deep breath, returning to his former position with his back to G’Kar. “Now, provided that you can keep your cold hands to yourself, I am going to sleep. Good night, G’Kar.” 

Too tired to argue, G’Kar loosely draped his arms around Londo’s shoulders and tried to do the same. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have some time after Londo started snoring beside him, because he awoke to the sound of laboured breathing and a frantic pounding on his chest. G’Kar jolted, suddenly alert and aware that he’d wrapped himself around Londo like a cocoon, both arms clamped tight around his chest and a thigh hiked over his hips. “Let go, you beast! Do you mean to suffocate me?!” 

“I was fast asleep! I didn’t mean to do anything,” G’Kar weakly protested while Londo caught his breath. Leaving G’Kar nestled in the covers, Londo sat up, one hand lingering over the laces of his nightgown.

“Mollari…” G’Kar moved to touch his shoulder, but Londo shifted out of arm’s reach. 

After he’d collected himself, Londo turned to him again. The expression he wore was almost pitying. “It’s all right, G’Kar. I will take care of this,” he said, then threw back the curtains and stepped into the pair of slippers he kept at the side of the bed. 

“Where are you going?” G’Kar asked, afraid he was about to spend the rest of the night on a couch in the parlour. 

“I _said_ , I will take care of it.” 

G’Kar watched in silence as Londo stood up and marched towards the parlour, swinging the door shut behind him. A part of him wanted to get up and follow, but he knew it would be even colder in the other room, and Londo likely wouldn’t appreciate the company. Thoroughly dejected, G’Kar closed his eyes and rolled onto the warm groove Londo had left in the sheets.

There were voices coming from the parlour. Though hushed and muffled through the door, G'Kar recognized one of them as Londo’s. Raising his head from the pillow, he noticed that the door had not closed properly; flickering light shone through the gap. Londo was speaking to someone over the comm unit, it seemed. 

Comfort outweighing his curiosity for the time being, G’Kar leaned as close as he could to the edge of the bed to listen. The other voice was nobody familiar—probably male, but with a softer voice than Londo’s. He could detect a hint of formality in his calm, measured Centauri. A local call, then. 

Murmured conversation ensued, snippets of phrases that G’Kar could almost make out, but too fast for him to pick up anything but the general cadence. It started out professional—Londo asking questions, receiving curt answers in return. Then imploring:

“Yes, I understand it is a delicate balance, but…”

A long silence as explanation followed from the other party. 

“Surely, just this once will not make a difference—“ 

Stammering objections on the other end. G’Kar thought whoever it was sounded very tired. The response must not have been satisfactory, because Londo suddenly raised his voice loud enough for G’Kar to hear every word:

“ _Why?_ ‘Why’ is none of your concern!”

The other voice again, high and appeasing. 

“Do you know what this is?” A pause. “Do you know who I am? Do you fully comprehend who it is you are talking to?!”

More placating words from the other voice, then finally, resignation. 

“Yes! Good. Now do it,” Londo finished. G’Kar thought he could almost hear the frustrated snarl at the end. The light from the door went out. G’Kar buried his face in the pillows as Londo emerged from the parlour, the emperor’s pendant glittering around his neck. 

G’Kar roused himself when Londo approached. “What was that?” he asked, feigning drowsiness that he no longer felt. 

Londo parted the curtains and came to sit at the side of the bed. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, accompanied by a gentle smile that contained no trace of his earlier agitation. He felt his way through several layers of blanket until he found G’Kar’s hand, enclosing it with his own. More than a little confused, G’Kar opened his mouth to speak, and ended up even more bewildered when Londo met him with a kiss. “Get up, come with me,” he whispered. 

“What for? I’m perfectly comfortable where I am!” said G’Kar. Still taken aback by the kiss—or rather, its odd timing—he held tight to Londo’s hand, drawing him further onto the bed. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you… stay here?” Lightly, he rubbed Londo’s wrist with his thumb in the hope of coaxing him to crawl back under the covers. They hadn’t—not since the beginning of the season when G’Kar had discovered, to great embarrassment, that the chill had left him unable to perform more than just his professional obligations. But if kisses were on Londo’s mind, then it couldn’t hurt to try.

If Londo picked up on the innuendo, he didn’t show it. “Don’t be stubborn, G’Kar. I promise, you will want to see this.” Swept up in his own enthusiasm, he gave G’Kar’s arm a swift tug, pulling him into a sitting position. “You can bring these with you,” he assured him, playfully adjusting G’Kar’s hood of blankets. 

“What are you talking about?” G’Kar asked. Grudgingly, he got to his feet. “And for that matter, who were you talking to—“

Londo brought G’Kar’s hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn. “Come with me, and you will find out soon enough,” he said, and drew G’Kar’s hand against his chest. “Trust me. We would not want to spoil the surprise, no?”

Whether it was pure curiosity, or because it was the first time in months he’d seen Londo in such a good mood, G’Kar gathered his artificial eye from the nightstand and warmed it in his palm.

Through a set of carved wooden doors, Londo led G’Kar out of the bedroom and into the solar. G’Kar bristled at the sight of the high vaulted windows that divided the far wall and framed the exit to the balcony. Mercifully, Londo invited him to sit at a cozy divan tucked away in the corner. Out of a nearby cabinet, Londo procured two stemless glasses and a bottle of untouched liquor. 

“Here. This should help,” he said, pouring a modest glass for himself and a fuller one for G’Kar. “It shouldn’t be long now. No more than an hour or so, he said.”

“An hour? What are we waiting for?” G’Kar pressed. Londo passed G’Kar his drink, but offered no further explanation. 

G’Kar sniffed the contents of the glass—stronger stuff than Londo’s usual fare, probably reserved for special occasions—and took a long drink. The alcohol offered some relief, scorching its way down his throat, settling warm in the pit of his stomach. Londo sprawled on the opposite arm of the divan. He took restrained sips from his own glass, but his attention was focused out the window, or whatever he could see through the frosted glass. “What are you looking at?” G’Kar asked. 

“Nothing. It’s just…” Londo turned back to G’Kar, almost self-consciously, and took another drink. “The weather has cleared up a little, don’t you think? I was wondering if perhaps soon we shall be able to see the stars again.”

“Not likely,” G’Kar said, not feeling particularly generous at the moment. “Even with the atmosphere scrubbers, it could take months, years.”

Londo nodded in acknowledgement, then cautiously, “I imagine it was much the same on your homeworld.” 

G’Kar blinked, surprised that Londo would think to broach the topic, seemingly out of genuine interest rather than solemn obligation. “In some ways,” said G’Kar, idly swirling his drink. “There were dust storms, poison rain, and days when the smog got so thick it felt like the air itself was tearing at your lungs. It was as if the world had shattered beneath our feet, the very earth turned against us. But this is something different entirely.”

“Indeed. This? This feels more… like the entire planet has been kicked on its orbit. And now everything is tilted in the wrong direction,” Londo said, chuckling darkly under his breath. “All the same, you persevered, did you not? Something must have united you? Driven you to survive?”

Over his glass, G’Kar shot him an incredulous look. “Besides our hatred for you?” 

Londo snorted. “Besides that.”

Beginning to get a sense of what Londo was really asking, G’Kar set his glass on the table and leaned heavily against the armrest. “Proximity under harsh conditions,” he answered coolly, “is bound to create bonds of fellowship and brotherhood. We Narns have always nurtured close relationships among kin, and finding ourselves confronted with the same problems helped us to set aside internal strife and focus instead on the values we shared. To know that you may easily die for nothing in the next airstrike makes it easier to contemplate dying for one another.”

Judging by Londo’s expression, it wasn’t the answer he'd wanted to hear. That did not make it any less true. “But I suppose, in the end…” G’Kar continued, trying to soften the blow, “it was the company. Nights around the fire, telling stories, singing songs. Even when all we had to eat was stolen scraps from Centauri larders, it tasted like a feast. Those small moments of joy helped make the fight bearable, day after day, year after year. Being together reminded us of what we’d lost, and gave us hope for the future.”

Londo thought that over, eyes flitting between his drink and the darkness outside. “After all that has happened, do you believe that… my people could ever do the same?”

G’Kar held his blankets tighter, biting back the immediate, callous response that formed at the tip of his tongue. The last corruptions of the Shadows had already been purged from this world, and G'Kar had not been wholly facetious when he spoke of the benefit of a common enemy in times of catastrophe. The Narn had been united as they fought, right up until the end. It had lasted until they were in the same position as the Centauri were now: tired, alone, and left to pick up the pieces of their broken world. 

“Why shouldn’t they?” he said instead. “From what I can recall of your history, your people have suffered worse in the past.” He picked up his drink again and downed the rest in one swallow.

“I know that,” Londo said, visibly struggling with the notion. “It’s true, but…” 

“Two years ago, I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but you’ve surprised me before,” G’Kar said softly. “Whether your people can endure the devastation of their homeworld, the loss of their history, and come out better for it? It is not my place to answer that question for you, Mollari. I’m still not sure if my people ever did.” G’Kar extended an arm to caress Londo’s cheek. “But I find it hard to believe you would have chosen this path if you thought otherwise.”

Londo did not contradict him. He pulled away from the touch after a long moment, and when he did, it was only to refill G’Kar’s glass. The conversation soon passed to lighter topics—Londo’s upcoming visit to Immolan V, what G’Kar thought of last night’s supper, a certain morning a few weeks ago when when G’Kar had made the mistake of greeting Londo’s young footman at the door before he’d put in his eye. 

(“ _You should be sorry! I was sorting out those files all afternoon—_ ”)

(“ _Yes, but you should have seen the look on his face before he dropped them on the floor and sprinted off down the hallway!_ ”)

Between the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and frequent interludes of laughter, G’Kar almost forgot why Londo had dragged him out of bed. Before long, he even forgot to feel the cold. It took another of Londo’s stolen glances out the window before G’Kar realized his sudden comfort was more than just his hopeful imagination.

The deep black of the sky had faded to a dusky blue, etching out the shapes of the clouds against the morning light. 

“Mollari, what have you…?” G’Kar asked. By his internal measure, it had to be hours yet before sunrise. 

Londo didn’t answer, joyfully transfixed on the brightening sky and the blooms of pink and orange seeping through the cloud cover. He glanced expectantly at G’Kar, as if waiting for some sign of understanding to grace his features. “I told you. I took care of it,” he said, teeth edged over his bottom lip, on the verge of laughter. “Come and I’ll show you…” Londo seized G’Kar by the wrists and practically towed him toward the balcony doors. 

“Wait, I still don’t—no, no, Mollari, you can’t be serious…” G’Kar’s protests made no difference. It was all he could do to take a step back and brace himself when Londo gripped the handles of the balcony doors. Instinctively, G’Kar shut his eyes and covered his face against the blast of freezing wind—but it didn’t come. He opened his eyes, squinting against the glare off the ice. He took a deep breath and felt his lungs swell with brisk morning air. 

Far above the horizon, there was a bright point through the haze. Smaller than the sun, but larger than the nearest stars, its rays cut through layers of cloud and atmosphere to shine light and heat over the capital. Behind the shadowed mountains in the distance, he couldn’t make out the faintest suggestion of dawn. He also couldn’t help but feel that the strange light was shining in his direction. 

Hesitantly, G’Kar stepped outside, then turned back to Londo, who stood smiling in the doorway with his hands clasped behind his back. “Well? What do you think?” 

“By G’Quan… what have you done?” It was the only thing G’Kar could think to ask. 

Londo moved with proud, self-assured strides as he followed G’Kar onto the balcony, his eyes cast over the city as if in keeping with some overly dignified air. “It was quite simple, really. Our planet’s weather-control system was badly damaged in the Alliance bombardments, but over the past few months, I’ve ordered the Ministry of the Environment to make repairing it our top priority. Once the system is fully operational again, they think it should greatly help, ah… mitigate the effects of the subsequent bombings—to preserve our natural climate and what remains of our ecosystems.” He stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, leaning over the decoratively wrought balustrade. “What you now behold is the product of their hard work.”

G’Kar nodded slowly, his mouth falling open in awe. He’d heard of such technologies, and he was vaguely aware that Centauri Prime possessed them, but never had he imagined they would take the form of a second sun descending from the heavens to deliver a spark of warmth on a cold winter morning. “Of course, but I didn’t think…” He angled his head toward Londo. “How?”

Londo gave a shrug and a dismissive wave of his hand. “Great big mirrors controlled by stations in orbit. The size of a whole city, I’m told. But I am not a scientist. I don’t know all of the technicalities.” He nudged G’Kar with an elbow. “Is it not magnificent?”

“Magnificent. Yes, that’s… one way of putting it,” G’Kar said in an fluttery exhale. Something made his stomach flip and his knees feel weak when he glanced between the miracle in the sky and the Centauri standing beside him. 

Unable to tear his eyes away, G’Kar could only stand and gape at the way the light streamed through the gaps between the city’s surviving towers and glistened off the frozen river. He let out a soft gasp when Londo’s hand came to rest at the small of his back. Londo lifted an eyebrow, clearly awaiting some reaction. G’Kar attempted a smile and asked the dreaded question. “Was this… for me?”

Londo’s haughty repose disintegrated in an instant. He nodded enthusiastically, scarcely able to speak in his excitement, then broke into laughter. “Of course! It took a only a word in the right ear, and a little convincing on the part of the Administrator of the Office of Climate Regulation, but, as always, he relented and now…”

“All of this just for me?!” G’Kar blurted out, unable to hold back. “Because of my dissatisfaction with the temperature?”

“Well, you did express your dissatisfaction rather loudly.” Londo replied between breathless chuckles. “And often. What was I to do, but…?” He pointed to the sky and shot G’Kar a helpless look. 

G’Kar cringed, a palm pressed against his temple. “Is this your idea of going mad with power? Is this how it begins? Need I prepare myself for the sight of your courtiers’ heads as decoration upon the palace gates? I recall that ended rather poorly last time, Mollari.”

Londo only laughed harder. 

“You would order your staff to adjust your planet’s massive, finely-tuned, and no doubt precarious climate control mechanism just so that your, your… _bodyguard_ could be warm for a night?” G’Kar went on, torn between the urge to sweep Londo into his arms and the urge to throw him over the railing. “I can’t believe you’d—“

A high-pitched shout interrupted his train of thought. G’Kar turned toward the source of the noise, which happened to be a neighbouring balcony. Perhaps a floor below the emperor’s suites, a noble boy, no older than ten, had dashed outside and craned his neck toward the sky. G’Kar watched a man who must have been his father pad out after him, hesitant at first, but soon, he too was leaning over the balcony and calling back for his wives. Four women dressed in elaborate flowing nightgowns came to join them, their voices raised in delight. 

G’Kar stirred at a tap on his shoulder. Londo had a hand over his mouth and pointed to another balcony on the opposite side. There, a young couple stood hand in hand, whispering to one another as they admired the sight. Londo tastefully averted his gaze when the couple took in their fill of the sky and turned their attentions to one another. 

Londo tucked his hands behind his back again as voices and laughter filled the empty air. He let out a sigh, and then, in a soft tone, “Not just for you, G’Kar.”

G’Kar took care as he released the railing, still afraid that at any moment his legs might fall out from under him. He placed a hand on Londo’s shoulder. “I understand,” he whispered, then brought a hand to Londo’s chin and pulled him into passionate kiss. He felt weeks of tension leave Londo’s body as he yielded to G'Kar's lips, then, threw his arms around G’Kar’s waist and pulled off a blanket from his shoulders. G’Kar barely noticed, and even shed a few himself as he broke the kiss and proceeded to lift Londo off his feet and twirl him once around. Imbued with an energy he hadn’t felt in months, he pressed smaller kisses to Londo's cheeks, jaw, and the corners of his mouth. 

When he set him back down, Londo was flushed and warmer than before. G’Kar cupped his cheek. “Mollari, I…” he started. “This is… I still don’t know what to say.”

Londo shook his head. "Well, we shall not be making a habit of it, hm? But it was worth it just to see your face." He clasped G’Kar’s hand once more and brought it to his lips. “Tomorrow, remind me to make inquiries about that updated heating system.”


End file.
